Through a Mirror, Refracted
by Lady Lioness
Summary: This is a collection of pieces looking at what's going through Sam's & Freddie's minds during the Seddie arc. Currently up to 'iCan't Take It.' First chapter is author's notes with spoiler warnings & ratings. FREDDIE/SAM
1. author's notes

Author's Note

If you are looking for the beginning, that actually begins on Chapter Two.

I don't normally make an author's note a separate chapter, but I felt the need to explain myself here. Given my age, I am not really part of the _iCarly_ demographic. However, I was on a JetBlue flight from California to New York and I had the television tuned to Nickelodeon while I listened to my iPod. An episode of _iCarly_ came on and I thought to myself, hey, didn't I see somewhere that those two characters actually start dating? When I got home, I googled it.

As you may know, I am a **sucker** for a bad boy/good girl relationship so I didn't really stand a chance against bad girl Sam and good boy Freddie. I started off watching numerous YouTube clips and fanvids before tracking down the full Seddie arc. Then I started reading fanfic. I highly recommend WhiteKnightro's 'iWTF' and Beast916's 'Tag, You're It' (please note that the latter is M for a reason). After that, I requested the season sets from my library. I am currently up to volume 3 of the Second Season (according to the dvds, as the _iCarly_ wikia says I'm up to Season Three- I just watched _iEnrage Gibby_) and I noticed that, if you list the episodes by the production number, the character arcs make a little more sense. Then my plans for the evening fell through and I spent four hours writing these four character studies, which alternate between Freddie and Sam.

**Spoilers**

In my head, both 'Until: Freddie' and 'Until: Sam' start during the second season (or the third season, if you go by the wikia) and end with the the final scene of _iOMG_. In the beginning of 'Until: Sam,' I reference the bike messenger bit that she mentions in _iDate Sam and Freddie_. It's never established when exactly the incident took place so let's pretend it happens at the end of the second/third season.

'Three Days: Freddie' mostly happens just before he walks into Carly's apartment in _iLost My Mind_ while 'Three Days: Sam' stretches over those missing three days, both pieces ending with the last scene of the episode. All four pieces reference, in passing, various events that occurred during Seasons 1-2/3.

'Stolen Moments: iLost My Mind' is a tag to the episode of the same name.

'Upheaval: Freddie' and 'Upheaval: Sam' occur during an unspecified time in _iDate Sam and Freddie_, and, as always, they end with the final scene of the episode. 'Stolen Moments: iDate Sam and Freddie' is a tag for the episode.

'Apex: Freddie' and 'Apex: Sam' occur at some point between the end of_ iDate Sam and Freddie_ and the scene where Mrs. Benson tells Freddie about his application in _iCan't Take It_. I also used bits of the relevant iCarly. com blogs as background. 'Stolen Moments: iCan't Take It' is a tag to the episode.

**Rating Warning**

This is rated T because Freddie is a teenaged boy. He is a lot more physically-minded than Sam and he drops a couple of 'f' bombs in 'Three Days: Freddie.' Things also get a bit heated in 'Stolen Moments: iLost My Mind.' Sam curses a bit in 'Upheaval: Sam.' Both 'Apex' POVs are definitely T, due to language and Freddie being all hormonal.

**Status**

I am not marking this complete yet because I honestly have no idea if I will write additional character studies for the remainder of the Seddie arc. At the moment, I feel like I've gotten it out of my system, but when I get to the Season Four dvds, I may decide differently. I recommend you follow this story if you'd be interested in reading more as I'd just add more chapters. It is highly unlikely that I will post another new _iCarly_ fic unless the remaining episodes of Season 5/6 are particularly inspiring.

_Edited 9/02/12_: Apparently, I'll be adding Seddie orientated episode tags here as well. My muse be crazy, yo.

_Edited 9/18/12: _As of right now, I plan to write the three pieces (2 POVs & a tag) to _iLove You_. I may call in quits after that.


	2. until: freddie

He can't pinpoint the exact moment it happened. When did the dynamic shift from Carly and him, plus Sam, to Sam and him, plus Carly? Somewhere along the line, he and Sam just...kinda...slipped into sync. They finish each other sentences, they communicate with a look, and the space between them has shrunk. Sprawled out on beanbags, her elbow grazes his hand, his foot nudges hers. When she tosses her hair, the scent of strawberries wafts up to him, a few strands always smacking him in the face.

Still, Sam's behavior hasn't changed much. Her hand still collides with his face on a regular basis and his arms still bear bruises from her punches. If he could change one thing about her, it would be her propensity for violence, but, and he could be deluding himself, he does think the attacks are coming less frequently now. Even her insults seem to have gotten tamer, less vitriolic than before. He wonders if she feels it too.

It's like the jagged, sharp, tension, which always existed between them, fueled by jealousy and general disdain, has smoothed out into something different. There's still tension, some kind of fiery electricity arcing back and forth, but he no longer feels like he needs to stay five feet away from her at all times. He no longer _wants_ to.

The ache in her voice when she tells him Gibby turned her down, the bravado overlaying the fear on her face when he visits her at juvy, her constant and unrelenting anger at the world, it all eats at him. He prefers the moments when he hears her husky laugh or when that half-smile replaces her perpetual scowl. There are so few things in life that make her feel happy or safe. If only to himself, he admits he wants to be one of those things.

They've kissed once before, almost chastely, and it's a moment he cherishes, but it's not close to how he wants to kiss her now. In the dark hours of the night, when his bed is hidden by shadows, he pictures a different Sam. His fingertips run along the curve of her spine, her teeth graze his shoulder, their legs twine together, and all he can feel is heat & softness. Even when his heart beat for Carly, his imaginings were never this intense or...detailed. With Sam, the moan she makes when eating ribs, the flashes of her tongue as she licks the sauce off her fingers, the flush of her cheeks at the flavor, he repurposes it all for the fantasies that play in his brain every night. When she sprawls on the couch, hooking a leg over the back, he distracts himself with crumpled napkins and soiled cups. He'll pretend later that it was just the two of them in the apartment, that he'd gone over and fitted his body on top of hers, elbows supporting his weight, hands buried in her hair while he kisses her.

He tries to picture a situation where he tells her, makes a move, _something_, but nothing seems remotely plausible. He's not at the point where he's willing to roll the dice and risk losing her completely. He doesn't know if he'll ever be. So he hides it away, locking these dangerous thoughts behind a mask of status quo, content to simply let the fire he feels smolder. It works perfectly.

Until she kisses him.


	3. until: sam

She couldn't tell you when it started, but she knew the moment she realized it.

A quick shove to his shoulder and then he tripped into the path of a bike messenger. The messenger cursed at him, veered around, pushing him back, and he finally fell. There was a sharp smacking sound, a very red fire hydrant, and she looked to see him lying on the pavement, blood trickling down his face. She smirked, out of habit, but there was a sick feeling in her stomach as she stared at the blood. She hadn't meant for this to happen. Carly dropped to her knees to next to him, and she watched her best friend gently pat his face as she flashed back to that horrible moment with the taco truck. _No,_ is all she can think, as Carly shrieked at her, _no_. Then, three heartbeats later, he was standing before her, yelling in her face, fury clear in his eyes, and she smiled for real this time. It only made her friends madder and she watched them stomp away, still smiling at the sheer relief rushing through her. She knew then.

It had to be hidden, these strange feelings, carefully protected behind the walls she surrounded herself with. She knew that a boy like him, a guy who has panted for years over her lovely, sweet, nice best friend, would never fall for a rowdy chick like her. She tried to list all the reasons a relationship between them would never happen or why it would be doomed to failure, tried to remind herself of all his nubbish qualities. Nothing ever came close to extinguishing the torch she carried.

When she was alone in her bedroom, the door locked, she'd pretend. One day, he would just pin her against the locker and kiss her to stop her from spewing all those horrible words that persisted in spilling from her lips. One day, he'd compliment her hair or something, and she'd say that she'd noticed he'd been working out, and he'd smile like he did when he was pleased, and then he'd ask her to hang out, and she'd say, "Like a date?," and he'd cock his head to the side, still smiling, and she'd blush lightly and say yes. One day, they'd be on Carly's couch, and he'd reach out for her hand, twining their fingers together, she'd give a little squeeze to indicate it was okay, and then he'd tug her closer until she could rest her head on his shoulder. One day, he'd wake up, realize she was a girl, and pick her over Carly.

Sometimes she'd egg him on, poking at his sore spots, until he exploded. He rarely laid a hand on her, but, ever since he became taller than her, he stopped cringing away. The distance between them always shrunk down to mere inches they fought. His cheeks would flush from frustration, his chest heaving, his biceps bulging as he waved his arms around, and sometimes she just wanted to slide a hand into his hair to hold him still just so she could look her fill. No other boy had the balls to stand up to her like he did and when he was yelling at her, it was like she was all he saw. She could pretend there was no Carly or any other of the various disposable chicks he'd dated over the years.

There always ended up being interference, though. Carly would separate them or his mother called or the bell rang or _something_. He'd calm down, turn away, and it was like she faded from his life. She couldn't stand the feeling, couldn't stand the possibility she might lose the little of him she had, so she would provoke him again. The worse she felt, the harder she attacked, and it was a vicious cycle she felt she'd never break free from. "One day" was never going to come.

Desperation began to build inside her. Graduation was looming ever closer and her friends were beginning to toss around words like "scholarships" and "SATs." She was going to lose them to the future, was going to lose _him_ to some skunk-bag college girl. More loss, more people leaving her behind, and she just couldn't bear it. Maybe if she was different, maybe if she pretended to be Carly-esqe, maybe he would finally _realize_...

It didn't work. She'd done such a bang-up job of concealing herself, it didn't occur to anyone that it was him, only him, that she saw. He stood there, talking about hate, and all she thought about was a stolen moment on a fire escape. It was her first taste of sweetness. Maybe it had started then, but, here, now, her emotions are a riotous storm and, as she stares up into the impossibly earnest expression on his face, something inside her snaps.

She kisses him.

And then she runs.

_"Sorry."_


	4. three days: freddie

_Just a reminder, there is cursing in this chapter._

* * *

Three days.

Three fucking days and not a word from her.

He's desperate now, desperate enough to go to Carly, to pretend he doesn't have a damn clue why Sam would run, to lie right to Carly's face, if that would bring him the connection to Sam that he craves.

Not yet, though, not yet. He's nearly at the end of his patience, but he has to calm down if he's going to be cool with Carly. He strides around his room as the last time he saw Sam plays again in his memory.

The soft press of her lips against his, the bite of her nails into his shoulders, that damnable smell of her shampoo, it all caught him off guard. He'd heard her voice in his head, "Well, lean," and his brain froze on the fact that this was _Sam_ and _she_ was kissing _him_.

All those fantasies of her wrapped around him and he fucking freezes when it happens for real. Groaning, he drops onto his bed, face-planting into his pillow. He needs to know why she did it before he starts building castles in the air. Was it some elaborate prank? Was it a knee-jerk reaction of denial about her feelings for Brad? Like, "how could I be into that guy if I'm kissing you?"

Sam has always been the one person who can destroy his emotional equilibrium with ease. Rolling over, he scrubs his hands against his face. He wants so badly to believe that this could mean something, but he saw the vulnerable uncertainty on her face and then she'd just disappeared from a locked building. He'd looked for her once before Carly had told him she'd escaped. He's still not sure how he got through the remainder of the night without letting his emotions betray him. Maybe he'd been in a state of shock.

In the morning, exhausted, he'd gone straight to her house, only to find it empty. He headed home after texting her twice and collapsed into bed. He slept for six hours, dreaming disjointed images and jeering voices. Jerking awake, he'd reached immediately for his phone, only to be disappointed. He left a voicemail before spending the rest of the night staring at her Mood Face result, her face staring back at him, the words 'in love' taunting him.

Dammit, he needs to _know_. He needs to know what was going through her confusing, twisted, brain, so he can decide what to do next. His main concern is that he can't lose her. He can't do anything unless he can be sure that it wouldn't cause some irrevocable breach. He'll gladly put up seeing her with Brad if that means he can watch her be goofy on iCarly and if she'll still drag him out on late night walks with promises to protect him. Anything, so long as he doesn't lose what little he has of her.

In his head, he spins an alternate ending, one where he kisses her back, his hands clamping onto her hips, jerking her forward against him. He licks her lips, she gasps a little in surprise, and then he really kisses her, all those other girls, all those other kisses, just practice for her. This is their real first kiss, this is the kiss that starts everything for them. She is kissing him because she wants him, wants to be with him, and he is kissing her because that's all he wants too.

Sighing, he sits up on his bed, swinging his legs over the side. His phone is never far from his hand and he pushes the home button, just to check, even though he knows he hasn't missed anything. Feeling suddenly drained, he thinks he can go to Carly now. He's ready to do whatever it takes to find Sam now, including being cool.

It works. He is perfectly calm, cool, and collected through it all. Finding her in an insane asylum, no big. Talking her out of crazy town and back into the real world, no prob. Riding herd on Gibby and Spencer while figuring out a back-up plan for filming iCarly, piece of cake. Calm, cool, and collected, that's him.

Until he kisses her.


	5. three days: sam

Three days.

It had been three days since she completely and utterly lost her mind.

What on Earth possessed her to do it? What did she think? That he was going to suddenly realize that she was all he wanted and kiss her back? The only rational explanation was that she'd gone insane. Did she really think Freddie would be different?

Nobody ever wanted her.

Her father left.

Her sister left.

Her mother had one foot out the door, counting down the days until she turned eighteen.

Carly had been perfectly willing to replace her with Missy.

Her first boyfriend had really wanted Carly.

Freddie had always wanted Carly.

Nobody ever wanted her.

She belonged on the crazy farm for believing even for a moment that things would be different. They had pills here, lots and lots of them. She'd been somewhat frantic when she'd checked herself in and she'd swallowed whatever they put in front of her. She was calmer now, so she didn't feel like herself at all. The rage she held was quiet now, like the still water of a pond, and it was no longer drowning out her thoughts.

Why would Freddie want a girlfriend who beat him up? She relived every wedgie, every slap, every punch, every violent alteraction. Who called him names, who said nasty hurtful things? Her voice echoed in her memories, repeating it all. She forced herself to face her own ugliness unflinchingly. This was her penance.

One day turned into two.

She kept taking the pills. This had definitely been the right decision. The best thing she could do for Carly and Freddie was to just disappear. They'd find their way to each other like they probably would have done long ago if she hadn't been around. They'd go off to college together and then get married and have cute kids and be wonderful, loving, _perfect_, parents. Together.

Two days turned into three.

Her phone laid at the bottom of her purse. She could hear it buzzing from time to time, knew they were probably looking for her, but she was determined to be strong. The pills helped. She wanted to turn it off, but she thought it'd be better to let the battery die as she didn't have a charger. She also didn't entirely trust herself. What if he'd texted her that he wished he'd kissed her back? What if he left her a voicemail begging her to call him? No. No. It was more likely that he'd be lashing out her, sure this was another elaborate prank. No more pretending. Her "one day" had come and gone. It was over.

When Carly walked into the room, she was still calm. For a bit. By the time Freddie entered, she was hanging onto her sanity by her fingernails. She wanted another pill, wanted that false calmness back. Her anxiety dug into her and she was hopelessly confused. Why were they _here_? Why did they come after her? They were supposed to give up and move _on_. After all, they will leave her behind soon enough anyway.

She listened to Freddie, to his voice, which had gotten so wonderfully deep, and she thought she understood what he was saying. He'd be willing to pretend it never happened, willing to let things go back to the way they were before. All she had to do is act like she always did. A part of her wanted to do the noble thing and send them away, but she was too selfish. She'd give into the ugliness if it meant she got to keep him for a little while longer. It was weak, but she didn't want to lose him yet.

So she stepped into hard-ass, prickly, unlovable, Sam, just like putting on an old coat. She embraced her rage, her despair, all from knowing that she'd always end up alone. It is her shield and her armor, and now she is prepared for dealing with everything life will throw at her, everything, that is, except for what actually happens.

He kisses her.

And then she breaks.

_"You mean that?"_


	6. stolen moments: iLost My Mind

_"You mean that?"_  
_"Mmmhmm...So I guess we're both insane."_  
_"So what happens now?_"

Sam shifts restlessly against him as Carly ends the broadcast. Freddie looks down at her, his arm still tight around her waist. Her attention still on the screen, she doesn't seem to notice she is almost hugging him. Untangling them, he strides over to Carly, periodically glancing over at Sam to make sure she's not going to bolt on him again. She's just standing there, appearing a little forlorn and confused.

"Carly, do me a favor, pack up the computer equipment, get it home, and find her mother, okay? I want Sam out of here."

The small brunette is practically vibrating with excitement as she pokes at him playfully.

"I just bet you do! And what will you and Sam be doing while the rest of us clean up this mess?"

Freddie gently bats her hand away as he watches Spencer talk to Sam. The older man seems to be trying to cajole her into a smile, but Sam appears more in sync with the growing rowdiness of the other patients. A wild look appears in her eyes as their gazes lock.

"I'll be reminding her of where she really belongs."

Carly's "Awwww..." follows him as he crosses back to Sam. Tossing her head side to side, as she checks for an exit, he knows she's half a second away from panicking and bolting. He practically lunges for her hand, gripping it tightly and hindering any escape she might attempt. A half nod to Spencer, and then he's pulling her around the crowded tables. The noise level almost dies completely when they exit the main room and enter the empty hallways. She's oddly passive, letting him lead her, and she is holding his hand so tightly, it kinda hurts. They pass through medicinally white hallways with flickering lights until they reach her room. He silently gestures for her to go in first, not relinquishing her hand when she tugs a little, and he waits for the door to close behind him before yanking her against him.

She lets out a soft exclamation as her body collides with his, her free hand instinctively bracing against his chest. The impact of her pelvis against his groin is all the impetus he needs. Freddie lowers his head to kiss her, his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth, craving more of the spicy sweet taste that is Sam and quesadillas. She parts her lips, almost shyly, and it's all the opening he needs to take control. Finally letting go of her hand, he buries his hands into her hair, the silky strands, free from styling gunk, tangle around his fingers as he positions her head just so. If it were possible, their kisses become more heated and frantic. Her fingertips brush against his neck, one arm coming to rest over his shoulder. Her other hand remains on his chest, fisted into his shirt, as if to hold him against her.

Time has no meaning when they finally break apart. They are both panting and he shifts his hand a little so he can stroke his thumb across the gentle flush on her cheekbone. Her head is still tilted back as she looks up at him and he looks down at her. A lazy smile finds its way onto his face and she blushes even more. As she moves so she can press her forehead against his shoulder, hiding her face from his view, they shift naturally into a hug.

He keeps glancing over at the bed. It's perfectly made, hospital corners and all. There's only the slightest rumple in the comforter, at the head, and one pillow is shoved into a corner. His fingers twitch at the small of her back and she pulls away at the movement.

"Freddie?"

Her voice, curious, breaks the spell that has settled on the room. He shakes it off, blinking as he comes back to himself. Grabbing her shoulders, he thrusts her away from him. He drops a quick kiss on her slightly swollen lips before spinning her. He starts to guide her to the bed before he changes his mind halfway there and gently pushes her into the chair. Walking backwards until he hits the bed, he perches gingerly on the edge, hands settling on either side of his body.

Sam looks at the distance between them, at the way his fingers are gripping the comforter, before her gaze travels up to his face.

"Something you wanna tell me, Freddie?"

"Well, yes, actually. And no. I mean, I think we should talk. About the kiss. The kisses. Us."

A small smirk appears on her lips and her shoulders fall back as she straightens.

"So why am I sitting here and you're all the way over there if we're just going to...talk?"

Her voice is practically a purr, the epitome of a confident sex-kitten, but she still jolts when his firm voice replies,

"Because if I was sitting in that chair, looking at you sitting here, there would be very little talking before we were both in this bed. And, Sam, we are going to talk."

She crosses her arms against her chest, appearing very fascinated with the view from the window. He sighs.

"Sam, do you want to be with me? Like, being my girlfriend, be with me?"

Still concentrating intensely on the window, she gives a small nod. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, as he folds his hands together between his legs, letting a few beats of silence pass before speaking again.

"Well, that works out well, because I'm pretty sure I'd like to be your boyfriend. Especially if it means I can keep kissing you."

Her gaze flies to his at his wry words. He is smirking at her and when he has her attention, he shrugs.

"I guess it doesn't matter where you sit."

She watches as he toes off his sneakers before scooting back to lean against the wall at the head of the bed. Her arms drop loosely to her side as she asks,

"Does this mean no more talking?"

He shrugs again.

"For now. There are other things we need to discuss, but, right now, I'd just really like it if my hot new girlfriend came over here so I could make out with her."

The chair rockets back into the desk, a casualty of Sam's haste to get to him. She clambers onto the bed, not bothering to kick her own shoes off, watching his eyes darken as she approaches. There's a moment of awkwardness as she dithers between sliding in next to him or getting as close as possible. He makes the decision for her when he grabs her waist and drags her until she's straddling him. Freddie lets out a low moan as she settles, his fingers digging into her hips. His breath is hot on her cheek as he waits for her to close the distance between them and she licks her lips nervously before saying,

"Just one more thing."

Groaning, he closes his eyes as he thunks his head against the wall.

"I guess being your boyfriend just means you have new ways to torture me, huh, Sam?"

"No, really. Freddie..." She waits until he opens his eyes to look at her before continuing. "You have to promise me that if...when..."

An expression of agony crosses her face and he waits patiently for her to find the right words. Huffing exasperatedly, she finally says,

"You have to swear we'll go right back to hating each other as soon as this-"

Freddie cuts her off with a kiss, his hands stroking her until she is pliant against him. Nudging her back a little, he whispers against her lips,

"I promise I will always hate you, Sam."

She examines his face carefully, searching for some undefinable thing as time stretches between them, and then she smiles, a real, blinding, Sam Puckett smile, that is rare as leftover bacon.

"Hate you too, Freddie. Hate you too."


	7. upheaval: freddie

_My muse is obviously a feedback whore. Just putting that out there. _

* * *

When he goes to bed at night, sometimes he can still taste her.

It's something that he carries with him, a talisman for the times when their arguments go nuclear. And they go nuclear a lot. He vaguely remembers thinking things had smoothed out between them, that the reciprocality of their feelings would be enough to carry them forward. Hah. It's like they are two magnets, continually drawn together, but, every now and then, they get flipped over and repelled against their will, during this transition from Sam and Freddie to, well, Seddie. She hates their couple name, says that they are still themselves, just together, and it would be easier if he has any idea of what that means.

Sometimes he thinks he's not just fighting Sam, but their lives as well. When it's just the two of them, they're fine. They'll mess around, watch bad movies cuddled up, or idly talk about things that mean nothing. Yet when they talk about their mothers, school, their past, anything that reminds them that a world exists beyond the two of them, the fighting starts. Being with Sam, caring for her, it's like taming a wild horse. He has to constantly straddle the line between accustoming her to civilization and honoring the independent nature that makes her who she is.

He made the mistaken assumption that he knew who she was. They skipped all the normal beginning 'getting to know you' stuff because she was Sam and he was Freddie. If you asked him a week ago, he'd have told you there was little he didn't have memorized about her. He's spent more time with her over the last three years than he has with his own mother. Now, though, it's like he's discovering these whole new layers to her.

Like, he's always known she was territorial (just ask anyone whose hand may have ventured too close to her plate), but he didn't expect this growing possessiveness she has for him. It's not like she gets angry if he glances at another girl or gets clingy and tries to monopolize his time. No, it's as if she's set booby-traps along his perimeter and woe to any invader intent on doing him harm. Whether it be a football uniform coated with itching powder or a car full of bees, she'll do whatever it takes to protect him. He loves this proof that she cares for him, but it sits oddly with him. He's the guy, shouldn't he be protecting her?

And, the three of them, Carly, Sam, and him, they've been a trio for so long. Even when it was just him and Sam hanging out at the Groovy Smoothie, Carly was there, an invisible ghost, hovering beside them. She was just always _there_. He'd really had no clue that making Sam his girlfriend was going to change things this drastically with Carly. Carly's been Sam's best friend for _years_, but he's starting to realize that she has this weird, conflicted, view of Carly. He has no doubt that there's nothing Sam wouldn't do for Carly, but sometimes he has to wonder if she subconsciously resents the other girl. A stray comment here, a look there, the way she watches them together during iCarly rehearsals, it's almost like she views Carly as a threat. He doesn't know what to _do_ with this idea.

When you're dating one of your best friends and using the other one as a defacto couples counselor (who, by the way, is also, technically, an ex), it limits your options for a confidant. His mother doesn't know he's dating Sam and Spencer is Carly's brother. This pretty much reduces his choices down to the guys in the AV Club, all of whom have been tortured by Sam at one point or another, or Gibby. He's tempted, but he's not sure yet where Gibby falls on the Seddie thing yet and he's afraid of rocking the boat any further. So he tries to shove this teeming morass of uncomfortable feelings down and to concentrate on the fact that he gets to call this golden wild child his.

There's her sweetness in how she grudgingly offers to share her popcorn when they are watching Shark Week re-runs. Her sexiness in how she gleefully splashes into rain puddles, her giggles sneaking through the air. Her adorableness when she cheers at a knock-out punch in a MMA fight, her own celebratory punch to his arm sending him to the floor. Her softness when she offers to kiss the bruise better. Her vulnerableness when he drops her home and she stands in the doorway, watching, until he pulls away. Her sensuality while yanking him into a forgotten janitor's closet at school, kissing him until he's breathless. Her openness while silently giving him permission to push the boundaries of their physical explorations.

When he goes to bed at night, sometimes he can still taste her.

It's enough to carry him through the mushroom clouds, through the confusion, through the unsettledness, through everything. It's enough to make everything else worth it.

Until it isn't.


	8. upheaval: sam

When she went to bed at night, sometimes she could still feel him.

It was something she lived for, being in his arms, her reward for making it through all the stupid arguments. Only one freaking week had passed and she already screwed up so many times. The worst was when he got that slightly pleading tone in his voice, practically begging her to listen, but, by that time, she was just always so _angry_.

Her "one day" had finally arrived, her Prince Charming had shown up to rescue her, and here she was, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There were moments, like when she napped on him while he watched one of his ridiculously geeky tv shows, or when he kissed her good morning before handing her a baggie of bacon, they were just too perfect, too good to be true. Things like this didn't happen to people like _her_. She was the Evil Stepsister to Carly's Cinderella.

Sooner or later, he would realize he took the wrong path. Sooner or later, he would want to find his real princess. She was just trying to store up enough memories for when that day came. If she could, she'd arrange for them to be trapped alone together, just them, a stove, and a fridge of meat. No phones, no computer, no way for the rest of the world to remind him that he was insane for picking her. He didn't want to tell his mom and she didn't fight him on it. No normal mom would want their precious baby boy to be with a chick like her. She was certain that when Mrs. Benson finally found out, the sun would soon set on her "one day."

She wished they weren't fighting so much and she _really_ wished they didn't need Carly to referee. His blink-and-you'll-miss-it relationship with Carly hadn't been like this. They hadn't needed _her_ to keep them from killing each other. Nooo, _they_ could just sit down and "discuss" things "rationally." Carly didn't get so angry that she shook with it. Carly didn't lash out, didn't fixate on stupid-ass shit, didn't have "poor impulse control." Carly perfectly illustrated the ideal of a pretty, pretty princess.

What did she really bring to this relationship? All she could do was fight and he wouldn't even let her do that anymore after she duct-taped that asshole who insulted him to the flagpole. He deserved a girlfriend who knew the rules of being a couple and who would do more for him than just take what he was willing to give. Maybe if she had someone to talk to, someone who could help her sort this shit out, maybe she could get a handle on it. She could probably go to Spencer because he usually didn't get all "judgey" like most adults, but it felt weird because he was Carly's brother and Freddie belonged to Carly too. The stupid nub. She actually wouldn't mind talking to Freddie, but her rage was nothing compared to her fear. What if she told him how she was feeling, what she was thinking, and it only made the end come faster? No, she couldn't risk it. So she just pushed all the things she couldn't fix to the side and focused on collecting her memories.

There was the way he let her eat most of the popcorn when they watched TV, barely complaining when she added the ketchup. The way he laughed when they played tag in the rain. His biceps flexing when he punched the air after his favorite MMA fighter scored a knock-out. His smile when he forgave her for accidentally sending him crashing to the ground. How he waited for her to get safely into her house before driving away. How he pinned her against some lockers after she got out of detention so he could kiss her until she could barely breathe. The utter safety she felt in the confines of his arms, secure in the knowledge that she could completely trust him, his desire for her clear in his every touch.

When she went to bed at night, sometimes she could still feel him.

It is enough for now, these unbelievably perfect moments. They would be enough for later when he finally leaves her. Whether it is tomorrow or when the lure of college steals him away, she will have these memories to remind herself that, fora brief shining moment, she was his princess. It is enough.

Until Carly leaves.

And he stays.


	9. stolen moments: iDate Sam and Freddie

_"If you guys can't learn to figure things out on your own, then you shouldn't be dating at all!"_

Carly's last words hang over the booth like a guillotine. Freddie has his eyes closed, head dropped back, body tense, as Sam chases a few crumbs of the parmesan with her finger. The silence is about to go a beat too long when Sam lightly brushes his knee. He turns his head, opening his eyes to look at her. She is fidgeting with her napkin when she asks,

"You're not going to leave with Carly?"

He slams his elbows on the table, dropping his forehead in his palms, clearly frustrated.

"I don't _want_ to leave with Carly. I _want_ to be with you, but I don't _want_ to be fighting all the damn time."

She doesn't answer at first and then there is the sound of brushing fabric as she shifts closer to him. Her hand cups the back of his neck and he shivers a bit at her touch.

"Freddie?"

His voice is dull when he answers.

"What, Sam?"

"Can we get more lasagna? To go? And take it up to your fire escape?"

There is a quick rustling sound before a crumpled, wrinkled, twenty appears on the table before him. "Look, I even stole some money from my mom before you guys picked me up. Can we?"

He lowers one hand to touch the bill. Sighing, he pushes it back to her, still looking at the tablecloth.

"I got it. Flag down the waiter when you see him."

Her hand darts towards the twenty before hovering uncertainly above it. Idly, he notices her nails are painted. Haltingly, she nudges it towards him with one perfectly manicured finger. Then she is gripping his bicep with both hands.

"Freddie. I _want_ to go to your fire escape."

Slowly, he looks up, his gaze roaming over her face. He's only seen her wearing this expression a few times before. Reaching out, he cups her cheek and she leans into his touch.

"If that's what you want, Sam, then that's where we'll go."

They are quiet again as they order more lasagna to go and wait for it to be ready. It's not the ominous silence of before, more like a truce, soft in its newness. Freddie mindlessly wraps a curl of her hair around his finger while she rests her head on his shoulder, playing Angry Birds on his phone. The food and the bill comes. She watches carefully as he slides the crumpled twenty into the billfold alongside his crisp cash. Before he puts his wallet away, he pauses for a moment, catching her gaze. She gives him a small smile and flips the billfold closed in answer to his unspoken question.

Sliding out of the booth, he grabs the food and she takes his hand. Their fingers twine together and he leads her out of the restaurant. It's a little chilly, typical Seattle weather as spring begins its slow saunter into summer. The low heels of Sam's shoes click on the pavement as they head for his car. Their hands fall apart as he opens her door, handing her the food when she's settled. He climbs in and she's already kicked off her shoes, even though Bushwell is maybe ten minutes away. He smiles as he buckles up.

Music plays softly from the speakers and she stares blindly out the window, not seeing the city lights streaking by. At the last stop light before his apartment, he runs his fingers along her arm and she instantly turns towards him. That small smile makes a reappearance, but she is tapping her fingers on the bag out of time to the music, the small gesture betraying her nerves.

He pulls smoothly into his assigned spot. As he turns the car off, she slips her shoes back on, but he grabs her knee to keep her from moving further. He walks around, opening her door, taking her hand to help her out. Shoving the door closed with his free hand, he traps her against the car, leaning down to kiss her once, twice, before grabbing the food.

Hand in hand, they enter the building, ignoring Lewbert's screeches about the freshly mopped floor, and head up to his floor in the main elevator. They allow some space to separate them as he opens the door, but his apartment is dark. They still split up as she brings the food to the fire escape and he grabs another folding chair from the kitchen. He pauses a moment before climbing out the window, watching her sprawl into the same camper chair he'd sat in a few years before, her shoes landing in a jumbled heap as she shakes them off.

When she starts to rummage through the bag, the smell of the lasagna rising up to flavor the air, he's quick to join her. They pantomime their usual Pini's ritual, but she can't keep a small moan from escaping. His low chuckle earns him a rare blush from her. He's only halfway finished by the time her plastic fork is scraping the bottom of her container. She tosses her trash into the bag with a grumpy mutter and then wriggles around in the chair until she has achieved maximum comfort. Eyeing his food for a brief second, before shaking her head, she folds her hands together, tapping her fingers against each other. He snaps the lid back on his food, shoving it onto the stairs, out of the way, before finally breaking the silence.

"Sam?"

"I was never a possibility for you, Freddie. I was looking straight at you, I _saw_ you, but you were convinced it was Brad. Maybe...maybe you wanted it to be him and, all this is, this is just some-"

"Sam, baby, no." He cuts her off, dragging the chair closer. She is staring fixedly at a building across the street, but offers no resistance when he grips her hand, his thumb rubbing against her knuckles. He looks at the curve of her cheek as he answers her.

"I did see you, Sam. I did feel things had changed between us, but I couldn't figure out how to, I mean, I was afraid-"

"Of me. You were afraid I'd break your arms. Or your thumbs." Her voice is flat, devoid of emotion.

He sighs. Now he stares out at the city as he answers her.

"I'm not gonna lie, Sam, the possible outcome of needing a cast was part of it, but more frightening than that was the possibility I could lose your friendship, lose you from my life. I wasn't willing to risk it."

Her reply comes as a whisper. "But you woulda still had Carly."

Looking at her sharply, his voice is a little crisper than he meant it to be. "But I wouldn't have had _you_."

She finally turns to face him, her gaze bewildered and lost. "But she's the princess. And you were hers first. You never paid attention to me unless..."

Finishing her thought, he says grimly, "Unless we were fighting. Dammit, Sam..."

Exhaling in shock, she tries to tug her hand away, but he refuses to release her, pressing her knuckles to his lips. Suddenly, he bends over, like he's suffered a blow to the stomach, now gripping her with both hands. She stares at the back of his head, unsure of what's happening, practically paralyzed with confusion.

"Freddie," she murmurs brokenly, "I don't know what to _do_."

He shoots to his feet and she startles back, before she is being pulled upwards as well. He has her plastered against him, one hand at her hip, the other supporting her neck as her head tilts back.

"Do you trust me?"

Instantaneously, the reply comes. "Of course."

At that, he goes to kiss her before visibly making an effort to pull back. He settles for a quick peck to her forehead. His erratic behavior clearly starting to bug her, she growls his name and he laughs. Letting her go, he moves to the staircase, picking up the leftover lasagna container, and dropping it on his chair, her gaze following his movements.

"If you're not going to eat that..."

"Patience, baby, patience."

She growls again and he shakes his head at her. Carefully maneuvering her, she ends up on the fourth step of the staircase with him standing in front of her. They are eye to eye now and it's impossible to look away.

"First of all," he says in the voice she and Carly call his "he-man" voice, "No more Carly-"

"What?!"

He continues over her interruption. "She'll always be our best friend, but this relationship consists of exactly two people, you and me. We have a problem, we handle it together. Secondly, we are who we've always been. I'm Freddie, you're Sam. We argue, we dare each other to do stupid things, and we kiss when no one's looking."

A smirk plays on her lips at that last remark, but he valiantly ignores her cuteness to press on. "Thirdly-"

"How many 'lys' do you have? We're all alone out here and unless one of the neighbors has a telescope or binoculars, no one's-"

"**Thirdly**," he continues through gritted teeth, "I trust you and you trust me. That means you believe me when I tell you that you're the only one I want to be with and that I believe you when you promise not to hit me on purpose or manhandle me in non-fun ways."

She moves to stand, but freezes mid-motion, raising her eyebrows at him. He nods, ever so graciously, and she straightens. On this step, she's taller than him and she raises her hands to his cheeks.

"I promise not to hit you on purpose and to manhandle you in only the funnest of ways. For the duration of our relationship."

The growl that emerge from his throat at her qualifier sounds surprisingly like hers. Taking a deep breath, he stares up into her eyes and says, firmly,

"Sam, I promise you, you're the only one I want to be with."

He glimpses the barest hint of moisture in her eyes before she is kissing him, her hands slipping back to tug at his hair. They make out until his hands have sneaked under her shirt, her fingers are dancing along the waistband of his pants, and spring suddenly decides to make a dash back towards winter. Shivering in his arms, Sam pulls back. She glances towards the window and he misinterprets the look.

"Yup, I agree. Time to move inside. Do you want to hang out for a bit longer before I take you home?"

She gives him a baleful look because she cracked the code behind "hang out" about six days ago. Shaking her head at his cheesy grin, she asks,

"Do you have to take me home? Can I stay the night?"

His grin disappears and he gets very serious, very quickly. Rolling her eyes, she slaps her palm over his mouth.

"To _sleep_. Can I _sleep_ over? I don't really want to go back to...I was gonna stay at Carly's place, but... "

He nods, a warm and soft look in his eyes.

"Thanks. I swear I'll sneak out before your mom comes in to wake you up. And we can 'hang out' before bed if you'd like."

He nods much more vigorously this time and she giggles before dropping her hand. In revenge, he peppers her face with big smacking goofy kisses while she tries to squirm away. Finally, he finishes with a tender kiss on her forehead, brushing his thumb against her cheek.

"Go find something to sleep in. I'll tidy up here."

She bites her lip and looks at him with big eyes. He sighs.

"Yes, you can have the rest of the lasagna."

Cheering, she kisses his cheek before pushing past him to grab the container off the chair. She swings through the window with her innate grace, lasagna firmly in hand, and he watches her go from the safety of the staircase. When she is on the other side of the window, he calls out to her, a smirk already in place.

"Hey," When she looks at him questioningly, he continues, "I hate you."

She smiles, the special one she saves just for him, before replying, "Hate you too."


	10. apex: freddie

Spend an hour in the same room with Sam Puckett, you'll see her sleeping at some point. So it's not exactly a novelty or unique, but the morning he wakes up with her is still one of the best moments of his life. They may have sorta slept together before, sprawled out on the floor of the studio after an all-nighter or inadvertently passing out on the couch during a movie. It doesn't matter. That morning, the first morning together in his bed, there's no comparing it to anything that came before.

Honestly, he expected her to be gone by the time he woke up. He figured, if he was lucky, she might shove him awake, but it was more likely that she'd just slip out before his mom woke. Sam doesn't actually sleep; she's perpetually napping. She'll sleep for two, three, hours at a time and then get up to forage for food or commit a small property crime. Being her boyfriend has sent his sleep schedule all out of whack because it's entirely likely that he'll get a 2am call or video chat, where she will spend at least forty-five minutes comparing various meat products and he tries to stay alert enough to pass the inevitable pop-quiz portion of the conversation. If he manages to come off as fairly coherent and witty during the conversation, he can usually coax her onto a topic of his choosing. Sometimes he'll ask her about something personal, like her dad, but, given that he's a sleep-deprived teenaged boy, it usually ends up being dirty.

It's not always just him too! He'll yawn and say some unintentional innuendo and she'll go "that's what she said" and then they're right smack in the gutter. He really, _really_, likes being in the gutter with her. He knows she's still a virgin and that she's not as experienced as she seems, and he's a virgin as well, but he's, ah, messed around some with a few of the girls he's dated. He thinks he's probably veered into stereotypical cliche territory a time or two, but when your best friends are two strong-willed females and you are persistently relegated to the beta position, sometimes it's nice to take a more _assertive_ role.

Carly would probably have a heart attack if she knew how he's occasionally leveraged his iCarly popularity into getting some action, but he's damn grateful for the experience, especially given his relationship with Sam. This is the one area where she doesn't continually emasculate him and actually lets him take the lead. He has to remind himself that they've only been dating for less than a month because he has a feeling that if he heads for the checkered flag, she's not going to be slamming the brakes. This is too important, though-_she's_ too important- to risk moving too fast, too soon.

That doesn't mean he doesn't want her to spend every night in his bed. She _sleeps_ with him. That first night, after they finished "hanging-out," she climbed into his bed, arranged him to her liking, then promptly fell asleep on his shoulder and stayed asleep, until he nudged her awake the next morning. It turns out a slightly stunned and speechless Sam is his favorite thing to see first thing in the morning. She even cuddled back into him for a bit before they heard his mother moving around the apartment. Then she bolted, pausing only to quickly kiss him goodbye, before disappearing. His pillows still bore the smell of her shampoo and skin. He probably would have jacked off right then if his mother hadn't barged in after a perfunctory knock. Nothing kills morning wood like his mother waving a scrub brush.

Since then, they've managed to spend three more nights together and they have sort of a system now. She stuffs a change of clothes in her bag and then, in the morning, she "comes over from Carly's for bacon." He's pretty sure that the only reason they pull it off is because his mother is firmly in denial about the fact he sees Sam as a very dateable girl and he's perfectly fine with that. The last thing he needs is his mom messing with his relationship with Sam, especially now that things are going so well between them.

Secretly, he's started wondering if some of Sam's behavior was due to sleep deprivation. She's so much more relaxed now, her goofy side has been making appearances outside of iCarly, and she's more affectionate than he ever dreamed. He'll sling an arm around her shoulder and she'll turn into him, winding an arm around his waist or hooking her fingers into his back pocket. Sometimes, she and Carly will watch TV while he works on the computer and, during commercial breaks, she'll come over and wrap her arms around his shoulders in a backwards hug. Carly's started making little gagging noises when they get all couple-y, but he doesn't give a shit how it looks to anyone else.

Really, it's getting harder and harder to give a shit about anything but her. He has to do his homework while waiting for her to get out of detention because study sessions with her generally devolve into make-out sessions. It's almost easier, the nights she stays over, because he can do some reading after she passes out. She even gave him a little book-light for him to use (he's learned to focus on the sentiment and not the questionable origin of the gift).

Sooner or later, he is going to have to break the news to his mother because if he's already this addicted to Sam, what's it going to be like when they've been going out for six months, a year? He kinda gets the couple naming thing now because he's feeling less and less like plain old nubby Freddie and more like the Freddie half of "Seddie." He's her Freddie and she's his Sam. In a way, they've always belonged to each other, best friends at the core, but it's different now. He could never be for Carly what he is for Sam. Hell, Carly can't even say the word "sex." If he was dating her, he'd still be trying to steal second instead of sliding into third. No, Sam fits him better. They both have shadows that Carly can never really understand.

He wishes he could send a message back to his younger self. He's not entirely sure what he'd say, though. That she-devil is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you? Hang in there, she makes it up to you later? Go with her to the dance? It's not Brad? Still, he supposes everything was worth it because they wouldn't be who they are without those experiences. They wouldn't have their relationship, their screwy, messed-up relationship, that's so perfectly them, it makes him freaking giddy and he can't imagine it ever being in jeopardy.

Until it is.


	11. apex: sam

Waking up in his bed, that first time, it was...she didn't have the words. It was beyond belief. The last thing she remembered was snuggling up to his side, one arm around his torso while he played with her hair (he seemed to be endlessly fascinated by her hair). The next thing she knew, she was flat on her stomach, head buried under a pillow, and he was gently shaking her awake. Hand to God, she couldn't remember the last time she slept for six hours straight. She was usually woken up by hunger pangs or from a bad dream or one of her mom's boyfriends banging around the house. Waking up with him, seeing him smile down at her, she felt warm and kinda, kind of...safe. She'd been in no hurry to lose that feeling, but of course then his mother started making noise and that was the end of that. Since then, they'd managed to spend the night together three more times. Each time, it was the same story. She slept.

Slowly, it was sinking in that she didn't have to be afraid with him. She'd finally gotten the balls to talk to him, to tell him that she wasn't the princess, but he said it didn't matter. He didn't want Carly, he wanted her, Sam Puckett, in all her screwed-up and insane glory. She was the only one he wanted. It worked out because he was the only one _she_ wanted. Freddie understood her in a way Carly never could. He understood what it was like to grow up without a dad. He knew what it was like to love a mother who never saw you for who you really were. He felt the pain of broken dreams, of always being second place, never quite good enough for the world.

This had to be a dream, this taste of sweetness. How else could she end up with a boy who _got_ her? Not only that, but she'd discovered, much to her surprise, he knew how to use his hands. He was more experienced, physically speaking, than she'd expected and his confidence in this area was stunningly sexy. He knew how to use that too. They texted during the day, but he emailed as well. Now, she wasn't some girly girl who swooned at some stupid romantic gesture, but his emails...

There was one where he told her that after a fight with his mother, he pictured her smile to calm down. Another where he dreamed about the two of them jumping into a car and taking off, leaving behind everything but each other. In one, he wrote about wishing they had the years back, about wishing he could have swept her off her feet after their first kiss. There are some she couldn't believe he actually put down on virtual paper, full of fantasies and dirty talk, and reading them made her impossibly aroused, feeling like she'd die if she didn't kiss him right away. Her favorite emails, though, were the ones where he talked about his feelings for her.

Neither of them mentioned the "l" word yet, but she was pretty sure that was the name for the all-consuming feeling she was experiencing. Hell, she had to force herself not to scribble Mrs. Samantha Benson in the margins of her notebook, like Carly did for every boyfriend she'd ever had. It was like an addiction, this need to spend every second with him. She was pretty sure that, if they could get away with it, she'd just move into his room and spend every night _sleeping_ in his bed. The night wasn't the same without him. They couldn't even be next to each other without touching. She didn't care where, so long as there was skin on skin, but his favorite was the "my female, grrrr" arm around the neck move. Once, Jonas had merely walked by her in the halls and Freddie threw his arm around her so fast, she'd nearly gone completely off-balance. The possessive move had only confirmed what she'd begun to suspect.

Freddie could be a badass. It wasn't noticeable to the casual observer; you had to be able to see through the outer layer of dork. He was pure crap with anything involving slapstick or a punchline, but he had sarcasm down to a fine art. They'd been going to a lot of movies, partially to make-out, but mostly they liked to pick the crappiest movie playing, sit in the back row, and compete to see who can come up with the snarkiest comment. The boy could be _vicious_ and it was _awesome_. She hadn't really tried to entice him into anything too illegal yet, but she did get him to drink a beer once when they were hanging out at her place. Of course, before he'd drink it, he made her promise that they'd actually do their homework for an hour without stopping. Her math teacher had practically fainted when she'd turned in work the next day. Whatever, it was worth the cross-eyed looks. Freddie was _very_ entertaining when blitzed. She was already plotting a way to repeat the experience.

Everything conspired against her. Everything he did, everything he _was_, she couldn't fight against it. She was starting to believe, to believe that it was her turn. It was her turn to be a princess in love with a prince, a secretly tough, trustworthy, too hot for words prince, who loved her back and who would never, ever leave her. It was her turn to have more than just "one day" where she got to be _happy_.

Until Carly leaves.

And he stays.

* * *

_'Stolen Moments: iCan't Take It' is almost done. Thanks to everyone who has left feedback, especially WhiteKnightro who gave me the push to finish 'Apex: Sam.' Feedback keeps me motivated!_


	12. stolen moments: iCan't Take It

_"Sam loves you!"_

_"It's kinda true."_

After Gibby's surprising and impromptu concert, Carly gives them the option of postponing the rehearsal for a while, but they exchange a look before shaking their heads. Sam filches the application when he's on a ladder adjusting some lighting and his gaze passes over the empty spot on his tech cart without comment. The rehearsal runs smoothly, even if it's not one of their best. Freddie doesn't laugh as much, Sam's smiles seem slightly forced, and Carly's overcompensating for them both with wild enthusiasm. Finally, they reach the end and Carly's shoulders slump. Softly, she says,

"Look, you guys, if you wanna go talk or something, I'll clean up."

Freddie looks up from his laptop to catch Sam's gaze. He raises his eyebrows. She fidgets a little and then points down. He nods. Closing his laptop, he takes a step, but she doesn't move. He tilts his head to the side before sighing as she pats her stomach, looking at him pleadingly. Lifting a hand, palm out, he spreads his fingers, and she nods vigorously. A quick kiss to his cheek and she is gone, the door already swinging shut behind her. Opening his laptop again, Freddie barely keeps from startling when Carly speaks again.

"I think the only bit of that I understood was Sam wanted a snack."

His gaze fixed on the screen, Freddie replies curtly,

"I'd say you don't really need to understand, except for the fact that she's probably raiding your fridge as we speak."

Carly's eyes widen a little and she presses her lips together before she closes the distance between them.

"You're mad at me."

It's not a question and he gives her the courtesy of not playing dumb. The laptop powers down as he comes around the tech cart. His arms crossed against his chest, he says directly,

"You were right, Sam is Sam and, in the past, she's done stuff almost as bad as sabotaging my application. So we'll get through it. But you, on the other hand, you _knew_. Carly, you _knew_ how badly I wanted to go and you _knew_ that she was making that impossible for me."

She retreats, one step back, her hands jerkily fluttering in the air between them.

"She didn't tell me right away! I mean, it wasn't like I was there, like I could stop her. By the time I found out-"

"I could have called them, I could have explained that it was a practical joke gone wrong, I could have tried to salvage the situation. But I didn't know. And you did."

Freddie's voice is cold, flat. It's not the voice full of heat he uses when he fights with Sam. Mimicking his position, she folds her arms and clutches her elbows as she replies,

"You're right, you're absolutely right. I did know and I should have told you. She's my best friend and you know how convincing she can be, but that's no excuse. I guess...I think I just didn't want you to be gone for so long..."

Carly trails off and silence falls between them as they stare at each other. Finally, he breaks it.

"I have to go meet Sam."

Turning, his hand on the door handle, he stops when he hears her ask,

"Wait, Freddie, are we okay?"

Blindly looking through the glass, hearing the faint hitch in her breath, he answers.

"If having Sam in my life means unpredictable bouts of pain and destruction, having you in my life means occasional temper tantrums and utter selfishness. I guess that makes me a masochist because, yes, we will be okay."

He doesn't wait for a response as he yanks the door open and goes through, careful to keep his eyes averted from the girl behind him. Forcefully pulling the door shut, it slams loudly as he heads for the stairs. Taking them two a time, he descends rapidly, his body taut. When he reaches the ground floor, he doesn't even pause by Sam, standing there with a plate of sandwiches. The front door to the apartment is open and he's gone before she can take a single step. Sam hesitates for a moment, looking up the stairs towards the studio, before glancing at Spencer, who is silently sitting at the counter. Taking a soft breath, she follows Freddie, quietly closing Carly's door as she leaves the Shays behind.

Freddie is staring at the street below the building, hands planted solidly on the low wall surrounding the escape. The clink of her plate against the windowsill, the scrape of her sneaker against the metal, the small noises announce Sam's presence. She doesn't say anything at first, just fills the air with sounds of chewing. After a minute, she drops the plate onto the staircase with a clatter and then crosses to stand next to him. There's only a sliver of space between their bodies, the closest she can get without touching him.

"Still upset, huh?" The tension in her voice undermines the flippant question.

He doesn't answer her, just cuts her a look, before going back to staring. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, hunching her shoulders forward. Dropping her head forward, her hair swinging to cover her face, she says quietly,

"I really am sorry. I didn't think it through."

A bitter laugh escapes him and he snaps,

"Didn't think it through, well, there's a shocker. When do you _ever_ consider the consequences of your actions?"

She flinches, shifting away a little. After a few beats, he finally looks at her. Her face is still hidden and sighing, he drops his head back in frustration for a moment. Crossing his arms, he rests a hip against the wall, and turning to her, he says defeatedly,

"The time, Sam, really?"

Peeking at him, she straightens and shuffles a little closer. Laying her hands on the wall, she mimics his earlier pose before answering.

"That's what I told myself then, but-" she pauses for a moment, "I think I just didn't want you to leave. And I didn't have any right to ask you to stay."

"I'm sorry," she says again. "If I could do it again..." She sighs woefully. "I would probably still try to keep you from leaving. I'd like to think I wouldn't be such a bitch about it, but...I don't know."

Bending over to rest her elbows on the stone, she rests her head in her hands. "I don't even know why you're with me. I'm so fucking screwed up."

He looks down at the honey curls trailing down her back and his expression goes pensive. Glancing over at the window, he rubs his forehead. He stills completely before his body sags. Reaching down to her shoulder, he tugs, coaxing her up into his arms. His hands rest on her hips while she hugs him. With a bent index finger, he nudges her chin upwards.

"Sam, do you really 'kinda' love me?"

Taken aback by the question, she tries to retreat, but his grip tightens, keeping her in place. Flippantly, she replies,

"Isn't that how all this started? Your stupid MoodFace app saying that I was?"

He gives her a light shake, his voice stern.

"Seriously, Sam, I need to know. Are you in love with me?"

Biting her lip, she looks away for a second before raising her gaze to his. Slowly, she nods. His hand rises to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing her chin, as he intently reads the expression on her face. Lowering his head, he kisses her, sweetly, gently. Her arms lift, one hand threading into his hair, the other gripping his shoulder, her body pressing tightly against his. A heartbeat before he loses control, Freddie pulls back. Sam lets out a little whine as she pushes up, trying to recapture his mouth. He chuckles softly before saying,

"Sam, I think I kinda l-"

She snaps from her daze, her face a little panicky, and she slaps her hand across his mouth.

"Don't say it now. Not now."

He raises an eyebrow as she removes her hand, her fingers trailing down his neck.

"You don't want me to say it?"

"That's not what I meant. If you l-if you think you really feel _that_ way about _me_, just...just don't say it now."

Moving them backwards in an odd waddle, he's able to maneuver them so he can lean against the staircase while she leans on him.

"First of all, I don't think there's much 'if' about it. Secondly, of course, you. I can't imagine it being anyone else. Thirdly, what's wrong with here, now?"

Her fingers play with his shirt as she rests her head on his shoulder. He kisses her forehead as she murmurs,

"Not now 'cause if you do say it-"

"_When _I say it." There's only the slightest hitch in her voice as she talks over his interruption.

"-It should be completely and totally your idea, like it's the only thing you're thinking about, how you feel about me, about us, and not about some horrible, stupid, mistake I made."

He hides his face in her neck, kissing the spot where it meets her shoulder. She moans a little in surprise, her hands skating up beneath his shirt. Her gaze catches on her long-forgotten plate and she heads for it, leaving Freddie embracing empty air.

"I almost forgot! The last sandwich!"

He groans before pushing away from the staircase and moving towards the window. His progress is halted when she blocks his way with the plate.

"Here. I saved it for you."

Involuntarily, he looks up, checking the sky for an asteroid or flying pigs, before inspecting the plate.

"You saved me a sandwich? Of your own free will?"

She shrugs.

"You were mad at me. A sandwich always puts _me_ in a better mood."

The laugh sneaks out of him. He reaches out and grabs the nape of her neck, pulling her closer for a kiss. Breaking away, he says to her,

"I appreciate the sacrifice, but you can have the sandwich."

The sandwich practically disappears before the last syllable leaves his mouth. A small smile plays on his lips as he drops the hand holding the plate to his side. Jerking his head at the window, he suggests,

"C'mon, let's go freak out my mother and watch a movie in the living room."

"Ooo, devious. I like it."

"Of course you do, 'cause you like me. Award-winning hairy feet and all."

She shoves his shoulder. As she climbs back through the window, she says,

"Keep it up and I'll remember that I actually hate you."

When he's in the hall with her, he catches her hand and links their fingers together before he replies,

"Hate you too."

* * *

_iLove You pieces are up next, but I have to finish writing them first! Huge thanks to WhiteKnightro and Pigwiz for taking the time to leave feedback. Words fail to describe how much it means to me. _


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